Last Night
by boyslashboy
Summary: Ficlet: Harry's seventh and final year at Hogwarts suck. He can't seem to sleep at night, and neither can Draco. They find each other at the lake.... Rated R for sexual content, and a bit of violence.


Last Night  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
  
Summary: Harry's seventh and final year at Hogwarts suck. He can't seem to sleep at night, and neither can Draco. They find each other at the lake.... Rated R for sexual content, and a bit of violence.  
  
Spoilers: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP  
  
WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN UNDER 18.  
  
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Harry Potter changed.  
  
At least that is what people are saying. In school, in his manner, in... everything. Harry knows they talk about him. He hears their whispers, and sees the expression on their faces when he walks by. When they see him glancing over, they quickly replace it with a quick, fake smile.  
  
After fifth year, things got worse. Sixth year went by slowly. So slow, that Harry was sure he was stuck in time somehow. He'd never admit to himself, but Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was turning out to be a drag.   
  
He felt that the classes were pointless. The war had broken over, who -cares- what Elfric the Weird did back in god knows what age.   
  
He soon grew distant and awkward around people. -They- grew distant and awkward around him as well. Even his two best friends, Hermione and Ron were reluctant when near him.  
  
Harry walks slowly down the corridor, down to the Great Hall for breakfast on his first day back at Hogwarts. This is his last year here. A sense of dread washes over him as he thinks of his upcoming N.E.W.T.s exams. He has no idea what he wants to do after Hogwarts, besides the small thought of being an Auror.   
  
Everyone tries to avoid him. If they come upon him, they would not know what to say.   
  
Harry enters the Great Hall. He notices everyone quickly looking down at their plate, so that they won't catch his eye by mistake, therefore being forced to say hi, or worse, make conversation.  
  
He sits down between Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Hey." Ron says shortly. Hermione gives him a weak smile.  
  
Harry does not say anything.  
  
"Hi Harry! How are you doing?" he hears Seamus ask him. He sounds over-enthusiastic.   
  
"Fine." Harry replies.  
  
He looks up at his housemates. They had smiles plastered on their face. They all looked forced.  
  
Harry wishes they would stop it. All the pity they were throwing at him, as if he was some poor orphan who had lost everything he's loved. Of course, that was partly true, but he hates the way people are acting towards him. It was worse than when he received special treatment for being famous. Now, they were just plain favoring him because they -pitied- him.  
  
This year, Harry is taking up a new class. Advance-Skilled Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Professor Dumbledore recommended it to him, and only five people were in the class. It was taught by Professor Lupin, who had resumed teaching at Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione and Ron are not in the class. Hermione herself had already too many classes in her hands.   
  
Harry walks to class alone. His head is bent as he walks, so he does not have to look at another pity smile.   
  
He arrives in class. Professor Lupin is at the front of the classroom, adjusting a few stacks of parchments on the desk.  
  
"All right Harry?" he says when he looks up.  
  
"Fine." Harry says once again. He does not offer any kind of smile to his favorite teacher. He finds a seat and sits down.  
  
When the other four people arrive, Harry is surprised that Draco Malfoy is in the class. Draco does not glance at Harry. He doesn't seem to notice that he is in the same room.  
  
Professor Lupin tells them about their lesson plan for the year. Nothing he is going to encounter in this class can be as horrible as what he's experienced in real life.  
  
It turns out, they are starting off with the Patronus Charm. Professor Lupin thinks he is doing Harry a favor by letting him show the other students -his- Patronus first.  
  
Now, what happy memory can Harry conjure up in his mind in order to produce a fully-grown Patronus? Finally, Harry settles on an image in his mind. He says the spell, and a silver-white Stag erupts from his wand's end. There is silence in the room.  
  
Harry stands awkwardly in front of the classroom. No one says anything for a while. Lupin finally clears his throat.  
  
"Righty then... Harry, you may take your seat now..." he says.  
  
Harry shrugs and sits down, but not before glancing at Draco, who was leaned back in his chair, a strand of silver-blonde hair in his eyes. He does not show any emotion after seeing Harry produce the perfect Patronus.   
  
Later on, Harry would wonder why he always suppresses these quick looks towards Draco, who was supposedly his enemy. Was he possibly looking for a reaction from him? Did he really feel the need to know what Draco thinks of him?   
  
Professor Lupin tells them to divide into pairs. Of course, since Harry already knew how the Charm worked, he gets to sit there and do nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Draco. He is failing miserably to conjure a Patronus, not even vapor was forming out of his wand. Harry grins a small smile of satisfaction.  
  
In the afternoon, Hermione points out that Draco still has not insulted them or called her 'mudblood'.  
  
"Good, maybe he's decided to shut up after that monster, also known as his father, blew up," says Ron.  
  
Hermione twists her fingers nervously. "Now Ron, as horrible as he was, we should feel sorry for him. After all, he -did- lose his father..."  
  
She looks at Harry, as if waiting for his approval.  
  
"I'm glad that bastard blew up. He deserved it." Harry says. Ron grins and Hermione looks away.  
  
At dinner, Lavandar and Parvati comes up to Harry. They give him hugs, smoothing down his color like Mrs. Weasley often did. These gestures from them are surprising. Maybe they thought that doing what they just did would make everything that happened to Harry over the past two years disappear.   
  
Ron is still complaining about Snape. "Does he think we have nothing better to do than listen to his greasy self?"  
  
Usually, Harry would say something back, agreeing with Ron. Then they would both crack up, laughing and plotting ways to get Snape to wash his hair. That would cue Hermione in. She would tell them that he was on their side, and wasn't really all that bad.  
  
But tonight, Harry is silent. Hermione did not have to endure her lecture on them. Ron shuts up and stares at his plate. The Gryffindor table seems quieter than usual.   
  
"Right, I'm not really that hungry," says Harry. He stands up, ignoring Hermione's protest that he hasn't touched a thing on his plate.   
  
Harry returns to the Common Room. He takes out his list of homework. After an hour of staring blankly at his unopened textbooks, he decides to just go to bed early.  
  
Harry lies in bed for quite a while. He hears Ron get into the bed next to his. If this was third year, or fourth year, Ron would ask if Harry was still awake. Harry would say yes, and they would get under his invisibility cloak and roam the empty corridors just for the thrill of it. But this is seventh year, and things changed. Ron changes into his pajamas quietly, not saying a word to Harry. After a while, Harry hears his soft snores.  
  
When all of the boys in his dormitory have fallen asleep, Harry pulls his covers off. He has no plan of sleeping, nor could he have closed his eyes for one second without seeing the deaths that he saw throughout the years.  
  
He goes to his trunk, and pulls out the invisibility cloak that his father left him before he died. No plan of waking Ron up, he walks out of the room alone.  
  
The corridors are so familiar. Oh, the times he had roam these very corridors with Ron and Hermione. He remembers in his first year, when he had showed Ron the Mirror of Erised. The memory of that felt numb to him.   
  
There was nowhere to go inside the castle. Under the cloak of invisibility, he walks pass the Great Hall, and towards the front entrance. As swift as Crookshanks chasing a rat, he opens the door and slides out into the cool air.  
  
He lets the invisibility cloak slide down from his shoulders, and folds it into a small neat square. There is no need to be invisible outside, not when it is this dark. The brilliant rays of the moonlight are hidden behind angry, gray clouds.  
  
Harry walks towards the lake. Even in the dark, he knows exactly where to go. The path is so familiar. How many times had he twisted and turned in bed, and finally got up and came down here?   
  
He often sits under a tree by the lake. There, he thought of things. Things from the past, present, and sometimes he even thought about the future. He would play with ideas in his mind, maybe think of how his life would be today, if his parents hadn't died, or Sirius hadn't been killed. Sometimes, he pretended that they -were- still alive, that they were waiting for him in a home of their own. And that maybe all the things he's experiencing in the present was just one big, stretched out dream, or rather, a nightmare.  
  
Sometimes, he wonders if this is Hell.  
  
As Harry's legs carry him to his own favorite spot under the tree by the lake, he sees something from the distance. Someone was already sitting there. Whoever it was, he had his legs drawn up against his chest, and his arms were wrapped around his knees. Harry wonders who on earth would be up this late. Who on earth would be having the same dreaded sort of feeling that kept him awake at night?  
  
As he walks closer, he sees silver. He thinks that maybe he was imagining it. It couldn't possibly be -him-.  
  
Harry coughs to show the person that he was there.  
  
The boy looks up, and squints in the dark. "Oh. It's you," he says.  
  
"Right. What are you doing here Malfoy?" Harry asks in a cold voice. This is supposed to be -his- place. Now, he feels as if his privacy is being invaded.  
  
"I'm fishing for the giant squid," Draco replies. When he sees Harry's bewildered expression, he rolls his gray eyes. "Honestly Potter, what do you think I'm doing? The same reason you're here."  
  
Harry is still standing. He does not like the idea of sitting down next to Draco Malfoy. He is surprised that they have been two seconds into their conversation, and neither of them had thrown an insult at each other yet.  
  
Draco looks at him. "Are you just going to stand there?"  
  
"If you're going to be sitting there, yes." Harry replies.  
  
"I won't bite," he says.  
  
Harry gives a cold laugh. "No, you'll do worse. Possibly put the death curse on me."  
  
"Right Potter. Don't pretend you've never wished that."   
  
Harry stops. "What's that suppose to mean?"  
  
Draco shrugs. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't suppose you've ever wished you could just leave this place? And I'm not talking about just Hogwarts. I mean the world."  
  
Harry is taken aback. "Maybe you'd like to explain a bit more Malfoy. I don't see where you're going at."  
  
Draco turns around, so that he is facing Harry now. "You -know- where I'm going at. I see the look on your face. Ever since sixth year..." He sneers. "You've changed Potter. We all see it."  
  
Harry feels his face burn with rage. "And I suppose you know all about my life don't you? I suppose you know just how it feels when everything you've ever loved just... disappears."  
  
Draco is not sneering anymore. "Maybe I don't know about your stupid life. Not that I'd want to anyway. But seeing as how my father died less than a month ago, yeah, I think I'd know a bit around that area of discussion." His voice was bitter, edged with coldness.  
  
"Are you so sure that you don't know what happened to me? Maybe you -do- know a bit on that subject. Your dirty father was a death eater wasn't he? He was the one who planned Sir--, all the killings. Dark Lord's favorite wasn't he? I would think that daddy would let you in on some valuable information, Draco." Harry says Draco's name as if it is a disgusting word. Dirtier than 'mudblood'.  
  
But before he knew it, Draco had stood up, and flung Harry against the trunk of the tree, so that they were only two inches apart.  
  
"Don't talk about my father like that," he snarls at him.  
  
Harry does not flinch. "Why? It's the truth."  
  
Draco pushes Harry against the tree, harder. Harry feels the thorns digging into his back.  
  
"You shut up about things you don't know about Potter. Famous Harry Potter, everyone just loves you don't they? Or is it just pity? Bet you loved it when Lupin gave you a chance to show off your Patronus today, didn't you? Tell me, did your already inflated head get bigger? Or is that even possible?"   
  
Harry's heart is pounding. He shoves Draco off him, and the other boy falls onto the ground. His arms are scratched from the rough floor, but he does not take his eyes off Harry's.  
  
"Shut up Malfoy," he says quietly. Without another word, he turns around and walks back into the castle.  
  
The next morning, Hermione asks why Harry's all scratched up. Across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson is asking Draco the same thing. Both boys ignore them.  
  
In Advance-Skilled D.A.D.A classes, Harry sits alone again. He watches the others practice their Patronus Charm. He is pleased to see that Draco still could not produce the slightest bit of vapor. He sees the other boy throw down his wand in frustration.  
  
That night in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry sits by the blazing fire. Ron asks him if he wanted a game of chess, but Harry says no. Ron shrugs, and turns to Hermione.  
  
When everyone had gone off to sleep, Harry sits in the Common Room alone. He wonders if he should go out. Would Draco be there again? And why would he even care...?  
  
Maybe it was because Draco gave him a new feeling. A feeling that wasn't just numbness. Unlike everyone else, Draco did not pity him. He never saw him as Famous Harry Potter, and he certainly never favored him. He treated him like everyone else, although with the frequent insults.  
  
Harry pushes this thought out of his mind. Was he actually... -appreciating- Draco? In some odd twisted way, at least.  
  
He shrugs off the weird feeling at the pit of his stomach, and decides to go to the lake. Maybe Draco -will- be there. Not that he cared...  
  
Not bothering to get his invisibility cloak, he slips out the Common Room.  
  
Not long after, he finds himself walking the very same path he walked the night before. Sure enough, he catches a glimpse of silver by the lake.  
  
It seems as if Draco has been expecting him too. He turns around the exact moment Harry stops in front of him.  
  
They don't say anything to each other. Harry hesitates, but finally decides to sit down. Draco does not move.  
  
After a while...  
  
"Sorry."   
  
Harry looks up. "What?"  
  
Draco looks irritated. "I said, sorry!"  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For... for being..." Draco is unable to finish his sentence.  
  
"A git?" Harry says.  
  
"No!" Draco looks even more annoyed. "For saying that stuff last night. Although, you did say that horrible thing about my father... and you do kind of deserve it, for being so...-you-."  
  
Harry feels like laughing, but he doesn't. It seems weird to be laughing with Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Alright. I guess that's... somewhat acceptable. Although you forgot to mention how you were an arse all those years to me and my friends." he tells him.  
  
Draco looks upset. For some reason, Harry suddenly feels sorry for him. He sees what Hermione was talking about. He -did- have, or rather -had-, those awful parents...  
  
"Right, okay, I'll forget that stuff then." Harry says hastily.  
  
When Draco still has a pained expression on his face, Harry sighs audibly. "Look, I said I'll forget everything, if you stop being so rude to us..."  
  
Draco shakes his head, causing a few loose strands of his almost white hair to fall into his eyes. "No, it's my arm. You threw me quite hard onto the ground last night, if you don't recall."  
  
Harry looks at Draco's right arm for the first time. It is in an awkward position, like someone had twisted the wrist all the way around.   
  
"Sorry." he says.  
  
"Yeah...well," Draco shrugs.   
  
There is another pause. Draco looks at Harry. He has the urge to kiss him. And he did.  
  
At first, Harry is stiff with shock. But soon, he relaxes, and finds that this is quite enjoyable. In fact, he already feels himself getting rather... -turned on- down there.  
  
He feels Draco's sharp tongue brushing across his lips, urging him to open up. He does. He feels a chill down his spine when Draco's tongue runs across his teeth, and eventually rests on his own tongue.  
  
Harry is somewhat inexperienced. Besides that absolutely horrifying experience with Cho Chang in fifth year, he hasn't really snogged anyone else. Maybe a handful here and there. But nothing serious. And certainly none of them were -boys-.  
  
Draco does not seem to mind though. He is perfectly okay with being in control. His body weight pushes Harry onto the ground, and he detaches his own lips from Harry's.   
  
Harry is a little out of breath.  
  
"W-What the hell... are we doing?" he says, feeling slightly dizzy.  
  
"I don't know, but it sure as hell feels good." Draco replies. He has already taken off his shirt, and is now working on his trousers.  
  
Harry feels his heart speeds up at the sight of Draco's body. His gaze rests on the flat plane of his abdomen, and it slides further down. His eyes widen.  
  
Draco is grinning. "Like what you see Potter?"  
  
To Harry's own astonishment, he is getting rather, -strained-, in his own trousers.   
  
Draco is now undoing the buttons on Harry's shirt. When his shirt is off, Harry is relieved. He was getting really hot in it.  
  
Draco leans forward to land a kiss on Harry's lips once again. It was a short kiss, but he continues down, trailing kisses from his throat, to his chest, and still further down. He makes swirling circles with his tongue at the flat of his stomach. Harry is amazed at how this simple thing was driving him crazy.  
  
Harry reaches down and tugs at his own trousers, which now felt unbearable. It was as if he was trapped in a prison cell. Draco senses that he is quite excited down there, and is eager to help him discard of his trousers.   
  
Although now that Harry is completely naked under Draco's gaze, he feels even hotter than before, when his clothes were on. Draco continues to ravish him with his tongue, going father and father down, and finally stopping at Harry's hard cock.  
  
Harry lets out a gasp, as he feels Draco's tongue at the head of his cock. He feels all the blood rising to his face. As Draco starts to lick, suck, and lick some more, Harry wonders how it is possible to be in this much pleasure.  
  
Draco knew what he was doing; at least that's what it seemed like. He sucks on Harry's balls, while using his hand (the non-injured one) to pump up and down his cock.   
  
When Draco suddenly stops, Harry lets out a strangle scream. He feels like punching Draco in the face.   
  
"Turn over." Draco says.  
  
Harry looks at him, but does what he says.  
  
He feels hands on his hips, and then the tip of Draco's cock at the entrance of his arse.   
  
At first, Harry cries out as Draco enters him. But as he went deeper, and even deeper, he is plunged into another dizzy dimension where he can think nothing but the pleasure he was receiving.   
  
Draco's pumps grew faster, and harder. Harry's own moans are mixed with Draco's. At last, Draco comes, and Harry comes too, not a minute later.   
  
He turns around and lies on his back. Draco lies down next to him. There is silence.  
  
Harry cannot believe it. He just had hot dirty sex with Malfoy.   
  
Suddenly, Draco says, "Can I ask you something?"   
  
Harry shrugs.   
  
"How do you produce a Patronus?"  
  
Harry is surprised at this question. It is not a usual question to ask right after a shag.  
  
"Er... well, I guess, I just think of something happy, and concentrate hard on it."  
  
"It doesn't work." Draco says.  
  
"Of course it does." he replies.  
  
Draco raises his eyebrows. "Well then, what do -you- think about?"  
  
Harry pauses. "You, being horribly tortured, and so injured that you're coughing up blood."  
  
"Oh." Draco says.  
  
Silence again.  
  
The next day, Harry feels rather refresh. Somehow, he feels more alive than he had in ages.   
  
"Well, you're in a happy mood today." Ron says. He is still a little irritated that Harry had refused him a game of chess last night.  
  
"Yeah." Harry grins.  
  
Hermione is happy, seeing Harry smiling like that. When was the last time she saw him grinning? She couldn't remember.  
  
Harry eats his eggs, and grabs for some bacon. He is hungry, and feels like he hadn't had a proper meal in days. Well, that bit might be true.  
  
He looks up towards the Slytherin table, and just as he did, Draco did the same. From across the Hall, both boys smile at each other, knowing that nobody may know what they shared the night before, but it will surely happen again. 


End file.
